


you want the sin without the sinner

by gigantomachy



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Cheating, Demisexual L, Drunk Sex, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Foot Massage, Infidelity, L is touch-starved, Loss of Virginity, No Beta, POV L (Death Note), Touch-Starved, Vaginal Fingering, Watari is done with everyone's shit, Yotsuba Arc (Death Note)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:20:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26311048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigantomachy/pseuds/gigantomachy
Summary: Things are slow at the Kira Investigation Headquarters and L agrees to let Misa and Light have a date to celebrate their three-month dating anniversary. Misa convinces Matsuda to buy her some alcohol for the date. L discovers that sweet drinks can be deceptively strong. After a night of drinking together, Light passes out early, leaving L and Misa alone with a bottle of melon liqueur and nothing much to do.
Relationships: Amane Misa/L
Comments: 18
Kudos: 104





	you want the sin without the sinner

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently writing one fanfiction opened the floodgates and now, here I am. It's 2020 and the world is falling apart and I just want to dive back into all my old hobbies from when I was like 14 and become an internet trash gremlin once more. Also the L/Misa community on here, while small, is really nice and encouraging.
> 
> I didn't mark it dubcon because both characters are enthusiastically consenting, but please be warned that this fic contains sex between two very drunk people, and you should not have sex IRL with people who are this drunk.
> 
> Title is from ["I Know"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gGGWN2T-Nno) by Placebo:
> 
> _I know you love the song but not the singer.  
>  I know you've got me wrapped around your finger.  
> I know you want the sin without the sinner.  
> I know._

Today was Misa and Light’s 3 month anniversary. You may be wondering why L knew this fact, let alone cared about it. This was because his day had begun with Misa yelling on the monitors, unbelievably loud and energetic for such an early hour, jumping and waving at the camera in her room, shouting about what day it was, and demanding to see Light for a date.

L had agreed to let Misa and Light celebrate (or, more accurately, to let Misa celebrate _at_ Light while he did his best to seem excited) because, well, what else was there to do? The Kira investigation had stalled out. It had been weeks since he and Light had gotten into a fist-fight about his lack of motivation and nothing had really changed. Misa and Light didn’t seem to be Kira, not right now, but he couldn’t help but be sure there was more to the situation.

Why not let them have a date, then? And so L and Light had come to Misa’s room promptly at 7 pm, carrying between them a few slices of cake and a bouquet of flowers. The flowers were Matsuda’s idea: when he heard it was their anniversary, he had managed to convince Light that bringing Misa flowers was required.

When she opened the door to greet them, Misa literally squealed at the sight of the flowers, throwing herself into Light’s arms. Unfortunately, they quickly discovered that Matsuda hadn’t limited his meddling to this; as L and Light took a seat on Misa’s couch and set the cakes on the table, she dug around under her bed and triumphantly produced a bag full of cans and bottles which she set on the table in front of them. She lifted items from the bag one by one until the coffee table was covered in cans of whiskey highball, a bottle of soda, and one tall glass bottle filled with a liquid that was almost radioactively green.

Crouching on the couch, L surveyed Misa’s spread of drinks and touched his thumb to his lips. “Where did Misa get all of this?” he asked, turning to stare at her. “Her 20th birthday is still four months away.”

Misa waved him off. “Oh, I asked Matsuda to buy it the last time he took me out to the film set.”

L rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “Isn’t Matsuda meant to be a law-enforcement officer?” he asked, more rhetorically than anything. Buying a bunch of alcohol for their underage Kira suspects, in the middle of an investigation, sadly seemed like exactly the sort of thing that Matsuda would do, particularly if Misa-Misa was the one asking him to.

And so, L was faced with a decision. He could take the alcohol away, have Watari dispose of it. He probably should; it was the legal thing to do. But L wasn’t exactly concerned about following the letter of the law. He had already kidnapped Misa and staged a fake execution for Light. Letting them have a few drinks when they were a year or two under the legal age seemed pretty harmless in comparison. And he didn’t exactly want to deal with Misa yelling and whining if he spoiled her anniversary plans.

Besides, L was getting fed up with the lack of progress on the case. While he did believe that Misa and Light may have somehow lost their memories of being Kira, it was also possible, if implausible, that the two of them had suddenly become much better actors. If that was the case, then maybe a few drinks would cause one of them to slip and reveal something they shouldn’t. It was a method he hadn’t tried yet.

Of course, L hadn’t been planning to drink anything himself. But when Misa handed Light a can of highball, he had turned to the detective with an almost challenging look on his face. “Ryuuzaki, don’t tell me you don’t drink.”

L tilted his head in response. “I’ve tried it before, but I’m not overly fond of alcohol. I’ve found it has a significantly negative effect on my reasoning skills.”

Light rolled his eyes. “I’m not drinking unless you are, too,” he insisted. “It’s not my idea of fun to sit here drinking while you stay sober and judge us. Besides, you need to loosen up and have fun once in awhile.”

Clenching his jaw a little, L tried not to show his irritation. Even when he didn’t seem to be acting as Kira, Light had to turn everything into some sort of weird competition between the two of them. But maybe he had a point: if L refused to drink at all and merely watched them, Misa and Light would know for sure that he was trying to get information out of them. If he agreed to have a drink, then maybe they would let their guard down. He didn’t have to get drunk or anything, just take a sip every now and then. He didn’t like the taste of alcohol anyway.

That was the plan, anyway. Where it had started to go off the rails was when L decided to pour a little of the strange green liquid into a glass and take a sip, since he already knew he didn’t like whiskey highballs.

“You’re supposed to mix that with soda, you know,” Misa told him, shaking her finger at him as she mixed her own drink.

“I thought Misa didn’t drink soda,” L pointed out. “Won’t the sugar make you fat?”

Misa shrugged. “The calories don’t count when you’re drinking. Or, that’s what the other models at my agency say. Besides, this stuff is way too sweet to drink straight.”

L eyed the bottle, which was labelled “Midori,” and took a tentative sip from his glass. His eyes widened, even though he really should have expected this when Misa said the drink was “too sweet.” It tasted like melon-flavored candy, sticky and so cloyingly sweet that he barely registered the taste of the alcohol. L didn’t know what Midori was, but he knew that he loved it. With that first sip, L was doomed to fall into the same trap that has caught almost every inexperienced drinker at least once: failing to realize how deceptively strong those fruity, sugary, girly drinks could be compared to things like beer or wine.

And so, after another hour or two, Light and Misa were drunk, just as L had planned. But, unlike in his plan, L was just as drunk, if not more so. He had never had this much to drink before, and while he was unsettled by the reduction in his cognitive abilities, it didn’t seem to matter so much when he was busy discovering that cake somehow tasted even better when he was plastered.

All three of them were seated on Misa’s couch by this point. L and Light sat side by side, as was usual for Light and Misa’s dates, but this time Misa had rather insistently settled herself in Light’s lap, sprawled out with her arm around his shoulders and her legs stretching along the length of the couch. Unfortunately for L, she had decided to extend her legs all the way into his lap, and when he tried to push them off, she merely resettled her feet on him a mere second after he let go. This situation was sub-optimal because it forced L to put his legs down for once; if he sat his usual way, it turned out, the bend in his body would cause Misa’s feet to settle in the lowest point of his lap, which happened to be his crotch. That couldn’t happen, of course, so he reluctantly put his legs down and let her feet rest on top of his thighs.

For once, Light didn’t seem to mind Misa’s chattering; he was even engaging with her and laughing along. L had been planning to pay close attention to the pair of them, to see if they let anything slip after a few drinks, but his head was spinning and all of that seemed less important. And if he sat there without trying to follow their words, just letting the sounds of their conversation and their laughter wash over him, he could almost feel like this was real. Like he was a normal guy hanging out and drinking with his friends. His first friends. Like they weren’t very likely to be mass-murderers who he was actively working to capture and have executed.

He could be allowed to have that, couldn’t he? Even if only for a few hours.

Alcohol seemed to only exacerbate L’s habit of fidgeting with whatever was at hand. As he zoned out, his gaze fell down to the bare feet on his lap. Like the rest of Misa, they were tiny, and they looked small next to his long hands. L wasn’t used to much physical contact, but he had learned how to give a foot massage at some point, and his inhibitions were low enough that he ended up taking one of her feet in his hands before he had a chance to think about it. He began to gently massage her foot, more as something to do with his hands than anything. He had lost the thread of the conversation what felt like years ago.

Misa stopped halfway through whatever she was saying and squealed at the sudden contact, kicking a little bit out of reflex. “Ryuuzaki!” she yelled, and he swung his head to look at her. The movement was jerky, a little too fast, and made him feel pretty dizzy. “Why are you touching my foot? That’s perverted!”

Unfortunately, L’s lack of restraint seemed to apply not only to his physical movements but to his verbal filter as well, and he blurted out, “Misa’s feet are so small!”, like that explained anything. Somewhere in his mind, it did. Her feet were small, which made him want to touch them, and so he had. But that probably wasn’t the kind of explanation she was looking for.

There was a short pause before Light burst out laughing, a genuine and unrestrained laugh, covering his face with his hand. “Somehow, alcohol has just made you weirder, Ryuuzaki.”

L felt like he should be offended, though he wasn’t quite sure why, so he looked at them as sincerely as he could and said, “If anyone is a pervert here, it’s Misa! She’s the one who wouldn’t take her feet off my lap!” But this, and Misa’s outraged squawk, just made Light laugh even harder.

Being called out so aggressively made L blush (even more so than he already was from the alcohol). He dropped Misa’s foot and went back to fidgeting with his sleeves instead. To his shock, though, Misa lifted one foot and jabbed him lightly in the stomach with it. “I didn’t say to stop. It felt kinda nice.”

Tentatively, half-expecting Misa to yell again the moment he touched her, L wrapped his hand around her foot again and resumed the gentle motions. She didn’t yell, though, just went back to her conversation with Light as if nothing had happened.

If he was being honest, L would have to admit this was a pretty weird moment for him. Not only was he pretty drunk, but he also wasn’t used to touching someone else’s bare skin. He ended up tuning out the conversation altogether as he let his hands roam slightly higher, fearing a reprimand but bold (or inebriated) enough to do it anyway. He wasn’t touching anywhere indecent, just rubbing his thumbs against the smooth, hairless skin of her lower calf.

Misa’s only reaction, though, was to make a small humming noise and shift a little in her position on Light’s lap. Since she wore a miniskirt, there was a lot of bare leg on display, more skin than L was used to seeing shoved in his face. Her legs had fallen open just slightly. He could almost feel his gaze being pulled upwards, like something magnetic. Like her movements were designed to draw the eye, and the most natural thing in the world would be to let his gaze run up her legs to the skin showing under her skirt. It took more concentration than he would have expected, just to force his eyes to stay on her calves and roam no further.

L felt this weird sort of paranoia then, like Light or Misa, if they wanted to, could read his mind, could figure out what he was thinking and where he was desperately trying not to look. _I guess Light was right—I am pretty weird_ , he thought, snorting quietly to himself.

The three of them stayed that way for awhile, Misa chattering away, Light responding to her here and there, and L lost in his own thoughts, rubbing gentle circles on Misa’s calves and feet. As the time got later, even L noticed how the energy seemed to drain out of Light. Eventually, he was as quiet as L, staring off into space. Finally deciding to pay attention, L watched out of the corner of his eye. The more Light withdrew, the less he was playing along in his role as Misa’s doting boyfriend, the louder and more childish Misa seemed to get, raising her voice and getting up in his face more, as if to force a response from him.

After a few minutes of Misa rambling somewhat incoherently about their future, and about the things they would do together when Light’s name was cleared, while Light answered only with occasional nods or grunts, she seemed to get fed up and just leaned right in to kiss him quite sloppily on the mouth. This was the first time she had gone so far as to kiss him in front of L, less because she was put off by being watched than because Light refused to agree to it. L found himself inwardly cringing a bit, watching Light’s total lack of response to the girl in his lap.

Still, he was surprised when Light, apparently drunk enough that he didn’t want to restrain himself, broke the kiss and abruptly stood up, lifting Misa as he rose and dumping her unceremoniously onto the couch behind him. “I’m tired,” he muttered as Misa shrieked and sputtered in outrage. “I’m gonna lay down in the bed until you want to leave. Don’t let Misa join me.” And with that, he walked around the couch and threw himself facedown on top of the covers on Misa’s bed, laying the wrong way with his feet near the pillows and his head at the foot so that the chain could reach where L sat on the couch.

L wasn’t really sure why he listened to Light, but he was drunk enough that he automatically followed his instructions, holding onto Misa’s wrist as she tried to jump up from the couch and join Light on her bed. She struggled dramatically for a few moments, pushing against the couch with her feet for leverage, calling L some insulting and incoherent names, before giving up with a huff and throwing herself down across his lap.

Though L hadn’t been sure what he was expecting, it certainly wasn’t for Misa to flop down in his lap like he had just been substituted in for Light. He froze up, going somewhat rigid underneath her, as Misa, seemingly oblivious to his shock and discomfort, roughly moved around on top of him in a way that reminded him of a cat looking for the most comfortable spot to lay down. Similarly to a cat, when she found a place that was apparently comfortable, she curled herself up with a yawn and rested her head against his chest.

“Uh, Misa,” L started, a little awkwardly. “Want to get off my lap? I’m pretty creepy, after all. I’m not a good place to sit at all.” He spoke as loudly as he could without it being obvious that he hoped Light would hear and say something.

But Misa just gripped the front of his shirt in one fist and shook her head. “Nuh-uh.”

Thinking to imitate Light and throw Misa off of him, L moved to stand, but apparently she wasn’t going to fall for the same trick twice. “Nooooooo,” Misa whined, latching her arms around his neck and clinging on as tightly as she could. He felt himself wobble a little and realized that if he tried to stand while Misa was still on his lap and actively fighting his attempts to free himself, with how dizzy he already was, he was likely to send both of them crashing through the coffee table. He let himself fall heavily back down on the sofa with her on top.

Apparently the noise of Misa shrieking and fighting to stay on his lap was loud enough to get a reaction out of Light, but not the one L wanted. He just lifted his head very slightly from the bed and moaned, “God, be quiet, you idiots. Some of us are trying to sleep.”

To his surprise, L found himself almost angry. Light didn’t seem to care about the situation at all. Most men wouldn’t want their drunk girlfriend sitting on another man’s lap, but Light probably thought it was funny, if he was thinking of anything besides wanting to be left alone to sleep. And L wasn’t sure if that was because Light didn’t actually care about his relationship with Misa or because he didn’t see L as a threat, given that the detective had all the masculinity and sexual aggression of a baby panda, like one from one of those species that was going extinct because they wouldn’t mate. (Okay, maybe his drunk metaphors weren’t the best.) Probably, it was both. Being so totally dismissed as a man was something L was pretty used to, but after all those drinks, he did feel almost put-out by it.

He wasn’t really sure where to go from there, so he just shrugged and grabbed the bottle of Midori from the table. _So this is my life now_ , L thought, trying not to laugh at how absurd the night had gotten. He was drunk, he now had a Misa Amane refusing to leave his lap, and he was chained to Light’s passed-out weight and wouldn’t even be able to leave the room unless he could wake him up long enough to walk. In a situation like this, he might as well drink some more. Why not? It wasn’t like Light or Misa were going to drop any important clues in this state. “To hell with it,” he murmured, mostly talking to himself, and took a sip straight from the bottle.

As L moved to set it back down, Misa lifted her head from his chest, bleary-eyed. He couldn’t tell whether she looked sad or just drunk and tired, but she nodded at him like he had said something very insightful. “To hell with it,” she agreed, and, grabbing his hand with both of hers, steered it closer to herself so she could take a drink from the bottle. She wrinkled her face up a little at her first taste of the liqueur without any mixer and stuck her tongue out at him. It was bright green, like his got sometimes after eating candy, which made him laugh.

And so L and Misa sunk into an unusually companiable silence, curled up together on the couch, passing the bottle of absurdly sweet melon liqueur back and forth while Light snored on the bed. By the time a knock came on the door, L was properly wasted and in a much better mood.

The door opened a crack and Watari stuck his head in. “Ryuuzaki, I saw you on the monitor and thought you might want some help.”

L gasped in an exaggerated fashion, beckoning him into the room. “You must be here to save me! Misa Amane is holding me captive. Call the police! Call Interpol!” On his lap, Misa was losing it, shaking with laughter. Some vague grumbling noises came from the passed-out lump on the bed that was Light Yagami.

It was disconcerting, how Watari was able to appear so incredibly judgmental while acting totally polite and accommodating. He entered the room quietly, his face carefully blank, and set two glasses of water down on the table in front of them. “You’ll want to drink some of this,” he told L. “You’ll thank me in the morning.”

“Hey, grandpa!” Misa called out, giggling. “Sit down with us! We can share!” She waggled the bottle of Midori in Watari’s face, but he quickly dodged out of the way and swiped the bottle from her hand, causing her to pout.

L locked eyes with Watari and tried his best to look serious and commanding, which was difficult, given how the room was spinning. “Aren’t I in charge here? Give that back!”

Watari shook his head. L wondered if it was just his imagination or if Watari really was fighting back the urge to laugh at them. “I don’t think you need any more of this right now. Trust me.” Ignoring their protests, he lifted a blanket from where it was folded nearly over his shoulder. With one quick movement, he snapped the blanket outward, opening it up, and draped it over the pair of them. Liqueur bottle in hand, he paused in the doorway just long enough to flip the lights off and say, “I would advise you both to get some rest.” Then he was gone again.

“Boo!” Misa shouted from the couch, tossing an empty can at the door, prompting even more disgruntled noises from Light. This struck L as incredibly funny, somehow, and he cracked up, arms tightening around her waist under the blanket. He wasn’t sure when he had become this person, who could laugh so easily and put his arms around someone like it was nothing, like he had friends sitting on his lap all the time (friends who were _girls_ , friends who were _models_ , friends who were _probably Kira but he was NOT thinking about it, he wasn’t_ ). But if this was what alcohol did, no wonder people were so obsessed with it. The world hadn’t felt like such a good place to be in a long time.

Turning the lights out and covering them with the blanket did manage to put a damper on things, which, L supposed, was probably Watari’s plan all along: creating an environment where they might actually shut up and go to sleep. The problem was, L didn’t want to go to sleep, because he was pretty sure the world would be a lot less fun place to be when he woke up. The alcohol made him pretty tired, but he was well practiced at ignoring his body’s demands.

Like, for instance, he was starting to feel dehydrated, but he damn sure wasn’t going to drink the water Watari had brought him, just as a small personal rebellion against his attempts to ruin the fun. (The small part of L’s brain that still felt like he was 13 years old again and back in Wammy’s House was especially thrilled by these pointless acts of anarchy, particularly the memory of Misa referring to Watari as “grandpa.”)

And, speaking of “ignoring his body’s demands,” well.

Watari had managed to get the two of them to settle down, but now that they weren’t drinking and joking around, there was less to distract L from the physical reality of their situation. Being in the dark and covered by a blanket made the whole thing seem more intimate and private, even though he knew that the cameras were infrared and could see them anyway. And Misa, having grown quiet, laid her head upon L’s shoulder with a small sigh, almost nuzzling into the crook of his neck. He could feel the small puffs of her breath against his bare skin.

As she curled into him, one hand rested above the collar of his shirt, and she seemed to be absentmindedly petting him, almost: twirling the ends of his shaggy hair around her delicate fingers. Trailing two fingertips from his chin down the line of his throat to rest at his collarbone, where she pressed them against his pulse as if feeling for his heartbeat. Running her nails over the back of his neck here and there in a way that made his entire body shudder.

L couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him in this way: gently, soothingly, easily. In fact, the last time anyone had touched him intentionally had been Light hitting him in the face. And before that, who knows? He wasn’t the kind of person who got to experience this sort of thing, so he tried not to think about it. But now he almost felt like his whole body had been numb, deadened, and was brought to life under Misa’s gentle caresses. Everywhere her fingers passed over, he swore he could feel the impression of touch long after she had moved on.

Part of him almost wanted to cry, just at the feeling of someone else’s skin touching his. From the fact that this whole thing was a fluke. If he was honest with himself, this was meant for Light, not for him. This was only happening because of the alcohol, because Light had pushed her away. Tomorrow, things would go back to normal, and he would only be left with the memory of this small reprieve from his isolation.

And that was all very wholesome. Unfortunately, other parts of Misa’s physical presence were starting to overwhelm L as well, like the warmth and the weight of her on his lap, her small movements as she tried to get comfortable, as she nestled into him. When he thought that his body was being brought to life, that really included _all_ of his body.

This was the sort of bodily demand that L had a lot of practice ignoring. It wasn’t like he was completely clueless or uninterested in that sort of thing. Since puberty, he had occasionally masturbated, mostly to help himself fall asleep or to clear his mind to focus on his work. But his libido had always been suspiciously well-behaved, just another example of his body’s total subordination to the demands of his mind. Even as a hormonal teenager, he had never really had to worry about awkward erections in public or his judgment being clouded by desire. When he felt like it, he got himself off in a rather mechanical, businesslike fashion. The rest of the time, he didn’t really think about sexual things at all.

A few times, his fellow students back at Wammy’s had asked if he was gay, and he’d even wondered that himself. But he didn’t feel any particular pull towards men over women. In fact, he probably felt equally towards both; he just wasn’t sure if what he felt was equal interest or equal disinterest.

But, as L was learning tonight, fantasies were one thing. Seeing sexual images, or thinking about them, had never really done much for him. Having a woman, and a rather beautiful one at that, moving around on his lap, cuddling up against his chest, running her fingernails over his neck, was something else entirely, and it was making certain parts of his body much more difficult to ignore than they usually were. Especially when the darkness and the silence and the intoxication magnified the physical sensations in his mind until he couldn’t focus on anything else. Almost unconsciously, he tightened his grip where his hand rested on Misa’s hip.

L did his best to take himself away from the sensations, to think of something that would distract him and prevent his body from betraying him like this, but he wasn’t thinking very clearly, not with Misa wriggling around on his lap like that, like she couldn’t quite find a comfortable spot. He tried to calm himself down by picturing what would happen if he didn’t stop it: Misa would feel his erection and almost certainly be furious. She would yell at him, call him a pervert, humiliate him. He would be totally exposed.

Trying to picture Misa’s shock and disgust at feeling his arousal had the exact opposite effect as he had hoped. He actually got significantly harder at the thought, going from half-mast to a full-fledged erection in a matter of seconds, and his cock even twitched in his pants. He had to actively stop himself from making a sound. L was learning all sorts of new things about himself tonight, like that he was... apparently into that kind of thing? What an inconvenient time to discover something like that, he thought.

L could tell the exact moment when Misa felt it, because she stopped moving, all at once, just froze in place on his lap and murmured the word “Oh,” so softly he could only hear because her face was inches away from his ear. Fighting away the compulsion to wriggle underneath her and seek out the friction that had abruptly stopped, L held still, closing his eyes and waiting for her to leap to her feet, for her to start berating him. But seconds passed and it didn’t happen. All she said was, once again, “Oh.”

The silence between them suddenly made him feel compelled to speak, just to do something about the situation. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, paranoid now that Light would wake up and make the uncomfortable experience even worse. “It’s just a physio—a phys—uh, it’s just my body, it’s just a reaction to contact. I’m sorry, I can’t control it. I didn’t mean to.” Even though the thought of being yelled at by Misa had an unexpectedly arousing effect on him, he still felt uncomfortably exposed in the moment, almost ashamed. He wasn’t used to his body betraying his thoughts like this. He realized he had been clutching her hip too tightly and rapidly let go, letting his hand fall awkwardly to the side.

Instead of saying something, though, or getting off of his lap and leaving him to his shame, she merely shifted around on his lap again (causing him to bite back a hiss at the friction) until her back was pressed against his chest, the top of her blonde hair tickling just beneath his nose. Misa grabbed his hand from where it rested on the couch, and, letting her legs fall open to either side, pressed his hand tightly against the damp crotch of her panties, letting out a soft noise.

L had to take a moment to fight back the urge to make some embarrassing noise in response, something like a whimper. _So we’re the same._ He felt like the most useless, clumsy, unsexy person on the planet right now, but he did his best to guess what she wanted from him, to follow his instincts on where he wanted to touch. As she let go, he slipped his hand beneath the waistband of her underwear.

He wasn’t sure if his abstract knowledge of the anatomy involved would help him now, particularly when he was still quite drunk, but she was so slick that it was like his fingers were drawn easily into the center of her. He pressed into her with two fingers, marveling at how incredibly _warm_ she was inside, and let the heel of his hand rub against the area he roughly expected her clit to be (give him a break, it wasn’t exactly easy to work out her anatomy under her clothes, covered with a blanket, drunk, with her facing the opposite direction).

L began to gently rock his hand against her, making smooth beckoning motions with his fingers. His other hand, he slid hesitantly up her shirt, pushing up her bra enough to cup one small breast in his hand, not trusting himself enough to know what to do with the nipple. This had the added advantage of letting him hold her body in place against his chest. As she bore down on his fingers, an absurd thought popped into his head: _I haven’t even had my first kiss yet. I’m doing everything all out of order._ He had to struggle not to laugh, since he doubted Misa would find it very sexy. He had to be good for her, or she might change her mind and stop.

Her legs spread further apart as she tried to press forward towards his hand. L held her back, firmly but gently, but he added a third finger, pressing it in slowly so she could adjust to the stretch. This seemed to be the right move. It also caused Misa to let out a series of increasingly louder whimpers and moans, which were the hottest thing that L had ever heard in his life but also should probably not continue if they wanted to avoid Light waking up and catching them at this. (And maybe he should feel guilty about doing something like this right under his sort-of friend’s nose, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Light had made it clear that he had no interest in this, and L didn’t think he even had the physical ability to stop touching Misa for any reason other than her asking him to.)

Unsure how to keep her quiet, L’s immediate reaction was to remove his hand from Misa’s shirt and clasp it over her mouth instead. If he had been thinking about it, he might have expected her to be angry at him for that. What he certainly didn’t expect was for her to jerk her hips against his hand, open her mouth, and start to suck on his fingers with a sort of messy desperation. And if L had thought he couldn’t get any harder, well, he was proven wrong. He was just lucky he always wore such baggy pants, but even then, they suddenly felt almost painfully restrictive. He used his other hand, the one that was inside her, to press her pelvis back just a little bit, grinding her back against his cock through his pants and letting a small gasp escape his lips.

L wasn’t sure how long this lasted, getting lost in the warmth of her mouth around the fingers of one hand and her pussy around the other, trying his best to give her pleasure even though he was rapidly losing the ability to think in words beyond “Misa,” “wet,” “good,” and “please.” It was for the best that they had to be quiet, no matter how badly he wanted to hear the little noises she made, because if he was allowed to open his mouth right now, he’d probably sound like a right idiot.

Eventually he withdrew his hand for a second, unable to resist the urge to lap some of her slick from his fingers and find out how she tasted (nothing like sweets, as it turned out, but still somehow amazing). Misa took advantage of the pause to pull herself free and turned her whole body around until she was straddling his lap, one hand undoing his zipper so quickly that he could hardly follow what was happening.

One worry managed to stick in his mind, though, even as she cupped him through his boxers, making his eyes flutter shut as he pushed up into her hand. They hadn’t really talked much throughout this entire encounter and he was getting a little paranoid. They were both far more drunk than was wise, and it was dark, and he didn’t understand why she would want to do this with him, unless…

“Misa,” he whispered urgently, grabbing her wrist to still her movements long enough to let him string a few words together. “You know I’m not Light, don’t you? You know that I’m Ryuuzaki? Is that okay?”

He braced himself, feeling like he might have broken whatever spell had been making her do all of this, but Misa just cupped his cheek with one hand, touching him so softly that he felt like he might break apart. “I know that, silly,” she whispered back, and then, in one swift movement, she pulled his cock free of his pants, pushed her panties to the side, and slowly sank down on it.

Despite the long warm-up with his fingers, Misa was incredibly tight, and she had to slowly push herself further down on him as she stretched around his girth. Any words or thoughts had been completely driven from L’s mind, lost somewhere inside of her body, and it was all he could do to hold on, his hand clenching hard on the armrest of the couch as he focused all of his effort on not immediately cumming like a fucking teenager the second he was inside of her.

L’s entire world narrowed to just the feeling of her muscles clenching around him, enclosing him completely. He couldn’t even thrust for fear that the couch would thump against the floor and wake Light, so he was entirely helpless, forced to hold himself still as Misa began to slowly rock up and down on top of him. She pulled him, finally, into an open-mouthed and sloppy kiss, his first one, letting them stifle their moans and whines and gasps in each other’s mouths.

In the hopes of proving himself at least a little useful, L slid his hand between the two of them and pushed past her skirt and panties to rub at her clit. Apparently he wasn’t good enough at that, though, because Misa almost immediately swatted his hand away impatiently and replaced it with her own, rubbing herself. Her other arm, she draped over his shoulders, holding him close as she rode him. His face burned a little at the rebuff.

Still, L felt that he needed to contribute something to this whole encounter rather than turning totally incoherent and useless under Misa while she did all the work. So he slid both arms underneath her, letting her bare thighs rest on his forearms as he cupped her ass, one cheek in each hand. He wasn’t exactly ripped or anything, but he was stronger than he appeared due to his martial arts practice, and Misa was almost a foot shorter than him and light as a feather. (Almost worryingly light, actually, but maybe that was just what models were like.) So he was able to take most of her weight in his hands fairly easily.

Misa relaxed, letting him support her body and guide her movements. She was so small and warm in his hands, and there was something unbelievably arousing about being able to lift her whole body and slide her up and down on his cock. He couldn’t believe that this was the same Misa—the famous idol from the magazines he read, the Misa who got mad every time he so much as looked at her, the same Misa who was _Light’s girlfriend_. Now totally yielding as he manipulated her body on top of his like a rag doll, tossing her head back and making soft, muffled noises, letting him use her like a toy to stimulate his throbbing cock, letting him drag her up and down like a sheath around him. He could feel his cock pulse with every beat of his heart as he fought to hold off orgasm just a little longer.

L’s movements became frantic as he got close. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, biting on it to avoid making too much noise. He wasn’t sure if Misa wanted him to cum inside her or to pull out. He started to open his mouth to ask her, but just the thought of losing her heat and tightness around him, the thought that he might have to stop, intensified the sensations even more. Something about the anticipation of losing them made him so desperate to feel every last detail, and before he could stop himself, he let gravity pull her down on his lap until she had taken every last inch and gripped her ass hard enough to bruise as he spilled pulse after pulse as deep inside of her as he could reach.

L had never felt something like this before; all of his orgasms by himself had been rather underwhelming, so he thought people must be overexaggerating the feeling. But being able to cum with Misa’s tight heat gripping him, surrounding him, was so good that he saw stars behind his eyelids from the sheer pleasure (and maybe the fact that he had forgotten to breathe properly as he approached climax). He bit sharply down on his own lip, tasting blood inside his mouth, because he knew he’d have no control over his own volume if he let himself make any noise. As he pulsed inside of her, he wished that they could just stay in that moment forever. He’d never felt so totally accepted by another person.

Even as L started to come down from his orgasm, Misa stayed where she was. She wasn’t riding him anymore, just rubbing frantically at her own clit while keeping his cock inside of her. She kissed him crushingly hard, clutching at his shirt with her one free hand, sucking on his tongue, wrapping herself around him, her moans swallowed by his open mouth as she clenched and convulsed around him, prompting a few last twitches from his spent cock. He could feel his cum running out of her, along his skin, and was amazed by how something so objectively disgusting could be so arousing at the same time.

Moving away from his mouth now, Misa let her head fall forward until her forehead was pressed against L’s shoulder, wrapping both arms around him. They sat there together like that, embracing, her legs around his waist, his cock slowly softening inside of her. He wasn’t really sure what to do with himself now, but he didn’t want to leave this moment any sooner than he had to, so he raised one hand to the back of her head and gently stroked her fine blonde hair, trying to convey all of his gratitude and wonder in the simple gesture. Even if they were able to talk, he didn’t know what he could say.

Eventually, she did climb free of his lap, the absence of her warm weight on him suddenly feeling like an unbearable loss. Because L was still chained to Light, Misa agreed to get up and get some wet washcloths from the bathroom, which they used to awkwardly clean themselves off, sitting side-by-side on the sofa. He realized, suddenly, how much he had sobered up, and felt a desperate wish to be drunk again, back in that state of mind where any place, any moment, beyond this hotel room and this night felt a million miles away. He braced himself, wondering if Misa, having gotten what she wanted, would leave him alone to sleep on the couch while she joined her boyfriend in the bed. Somehow, the thought didn’t make him feel anger or possessiveness, just a sort of quiet and resigned sadness.

But she wasn’t making any moves towards the bed. Not yet, anyway. With a small, sleepy noise, Misa settled down under the blanket still covering L. The whole side of her body was pressed against his in a warm line, and she let her head fall onto his shoulder without a word. L put his arm around her and let himself pretend, just for a second, that they could live in that moment forever.

**Author's Note:**

> No one uses condoms in my fics because this is a fantasy, not a sex-ed class, and I like to pretend they live in a magical world where STIs and unplanned pregnancies don’t exist. Obviously please don’t take sexual health advice from a fanfiction. If I’m writing a het pairing, you can just assume the female character is always on birth control, because there is a zero percent chance I will ever write a story where anyone gets pregnant.
> 
> I'm dedicating this story to this dumb bitch I knew who, when she was Misa's age, would deal with having crushes on people by just getting absolutely hammered and climbing on their lap in the hopes they would make a move. (It was me. I was that bitch. College was fun.)


End file.
